


sweeter than heaven

by prncesselene



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, In chapter 2, Like thats literally all this is, Married Reylo, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, also foodplay i guess, go get checked for cavities after this really, idk its all just so soft i dont know how to do anything else, more softness and fluff, soft breeding kink, this is basically just cottagecore porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26461660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prncesselene/pseuds/prncesselene
Summary: Rey and Ben are newlyweds living in the countryside. They enjoy the comforts of their new little life almost as much as they enjoy each other.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 30
Kudos: 287





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empirestrikesben](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empirestrikesben/gifts).



> This is quite a departure from what I typically write, but I hope the general ambience and softness of it all is grounding. 
> 
> Francis, you probably were not expecting me to actually write this after you randomly tweeted about cottagecore porn, but here I am hehe. I hope you like it!

This summer’s harvest is better than Rey could have ever anticipated.

She’d planted the seeds with such care just a few months ago, desperate for the soil in her new home — _their_ new home, she reminds herself, _all theirs_ — to provide some sort of token of luck. After all, the first year is the most telling for a marriage. That’s what they say, anyways.

So far, Rey feels very good about her and Ben, and the strawberries are just proof. They’re in it for the long haul. Some might even say _forever_.

It’s a tranquil life, of course, out here in the countryside. But in their time together so far, Rey hasn’t found reason to complain.

They do their chores in the morning — folding laundry for Rey on Mondays like today, while Ben handles the sweeping and dusting — and alternate the cooking for lunch. Afterwards, Rey tends to her garden, and Ben busies himself with writing his stories. Their cat, BeeBee, lazily bathes in the sun most of the time. In the evenings they curl up by the fire and read to each other, while Ben runs a hand over Rey’s legs under her skirt.

It’s quiet. Comfortable. And Rey can’t imagine ever asking for more.

Rey picks the lucky strawberries and carts them from her garden to the kitchen in her wicker basket, grateful for the updo that keeps her hair out of her face. The dress she’s wearing today is light and comfortable, perfect for the summer. When she opens the door to the kitchen, wind chimes greet her, and she _feels_ it, the fortune she’s just brought into the house.

Ben’s gone out to get the paper, hot off the presses. It comes in once a week, and his first story is supposed to have been published in this one. He’d kissed her on the nose before he left, his excitement palpable in the way he kept cleaning off his glasses with the fabric of his shirt and anxiously pacing the floor of their bedroom as the sun came up, even if he could barely bring himself to smile. Always so serious, that husband of hers.

“BeeBee,” she sings. The orange tabby perks up, investigates the sight of Rey walking in and dropping 30 strawberries into the sink. “Mummy’s making jam today. Would you like some?”

She smiles when the cat meows, jumping up on the counter to watch Rey get started. She’s made it before, but today it feels _special_ , when she takes the ripest ones and dumps them into the pot after they’ve been washed. Leaning upwards, she opens the cupboard where they store their sugar, dumping that in as well. She takes a fresh lemon from the basket above the counter and cuts into one, the sour juice fragrant, squeezing that into the pot.

Its methodical work, but she's happy to put herself to use, to do things that have a tangible product. It’s what she loves the most about their little life — the way they build things, see them grow, all on their own.

Once the sugar has dissolved into the melting fruit, Rey grabs her favorite wooden spoon, an idea coming to her. The white curtains on the windowsill flitter lightly, and under them a basil plant sits. Like everything else, Rey gives it as much care as she can. The plant had been a gift from Finn and Rose, bestowed upon them on their wedding day. Ever since, Rey has tried to find new and interesting ways to use the herb, and she’d heard once that it worked wonders when paired with strawberry.

She plucks two leaves from the plant and rips them up, throwing them into her bubbling pot. All that’s left now is to stir, and she does so with one leg hooked behind the other as she sings to herself.

Ben finally arrives when she’s potting the new jam. She’s closing the second mason jar when he whirls in, panting, a warm stack of paper in his hands. Some of the ink has transferred to his fingers — but he’s fully smiling now.

“Well? Did they publish it?”

He swoops in and picks her up, twirling her around and pressing a full kiss to her lips. “More than published it — it’s on the _first page_!”

He laughs, and then she laughs too, and BeeBee watches them curiously, her two silly parents twirling around in the kitchen of their cottage. She walks out the door that Ben left open, choosing to go lay in the sun outside instead.

Rey giggles, patting Ben’s shoulder until he lets her down. She brings him down by the ears and kisses him, letting herself get lost in the taste of him. “I’m so proud of you, love,” she smiles against his lips.

He tastes good — great, actually. But something is missing.

“You know, I was a little busy, too. Our strawberries were finally ready,” she announces, taking his hand and placing the newspaper on their table. “I made some jam to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” He smiles, leaning closer to take a look. “What are we celebrating?”

“Well, for one, your fantastic story,” Rey takes one of the mason jars and opens it again, taking a sniff. “And, two, celebrating _us_. This. It’s a good harvest.”

He knows what that means, had been the one to wave away Leia’s superstitions at the tiny reception picnic they’d held. He seems to get lost in her eyes, then, something warm and soft blossoming inside them, and before she knows it he’s propped her up on the counter so their faces are at eye level. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

“About three times a night, at least, yes,” she laughs, looking down at him, running a gentle hand through his dark hair. “I love you, too.”

She does. She loves him so much it feels like it’s going to burst out of her at any minute. 

She’s not a religious woman, but she’s ready to become a believer if it provides an explanation as to how someone like Ben ended up by her side.

“Can I try it?” He asks, gesturing towards the viscous red mixture.

Rey shrugs. “Of course you can, what do you mean?”

He smiles, but his newly heated gaze makes Rey blush now. He slowly traces her collarbone with the pad of his thumb, pausing when he reaches the thin strap holding her dress together. With the smallest flick of his finger, it falls, and he presses a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“I mean,” he starts kissing his way down, until he reaches fabric again and has to push it down once more, revealing the dusky pink of her breasts, littered with tiny freckles. “Can I try it _here?_ ”

Rey gulps, heat staining her cheeks. They very quickly grew bored of the simple routine they had tried on their wedding night, fumbling and giggling as they learned and explored with each other, but there is still so much they haven't done. He’s lavished attention on her breasts before, but this– this was new.

Excitement builds low in Rey's belly, eager and ready to try anything when it's with him. 

She looks down at the jar, feeling herself become even redder, heart thudding with anticipation as a shy smile graces her lips. “Well, I don’t see why not…”

He takes the jar and sticks his fingers in the mixture she’d labored over all afternoon, the redness of it staining his skin. It looks unholy in his thick fingers, even more so when he gently presses it over her nipple, his thumb gently rubbing over the skin until it forms a peak from the stimulation.

She feels moisture collecting between her legs, her center throbbing insistently with need the more she watches him gaze intently at her chest. He leans forward and takes the nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling decadently, cleaning up every last bit of jam he’d placed.

“Delicious, sweetheart,” he murmurs against her. “It’s perfect,” he takes some more and places it on her other nipple, repeating the process.

It’s slow, and sensual, and Rey feels like she’s about to burst into flames. The wetness of his tongue as he licks up the jam is so arousing that Rey's toes curl against the counter. She can’t help the tiny whimpers that escape her, her fingers tangling in his hair. “B- Ben…”

He looks up at her, separating himself from her skin with a wet pop. His lips are stained red and impossibly plush. “Hm?”

“Well,” Rey lets out a breathy sigh. “I just realized I haven’t even tried my own jam yet. Which isn’t really fair,” she pouts, taking some of it and rubbing it on his plush lips her own thumbs running across the skin. They're making a _mess_ , and some of it has gotten on her dress, but she doesn't care. “C’mere.”

He kisses her deep and slow, tasting of strawberries and good luck and everything in the world she could ever need to be happy. She sighs against him, her arms wrapping around his neck while one of his hands drifts towards her legs, shifting the fabric of her dress.

When he finds her center she writhes under him, sensitive and pliant in his arms as he explores the moisture that’s formed. His thumb expertly pushes her forward, delicious pleasure building in her spine. 

Two of his fingers seek entrance easily, pumping in and out while his thumb continues to pay special attention to the bundle of nerves at her center. When she comes around his fingers she sighs and groans into his shoulder, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

He always takes such good care of her.

He kisses her again before gently helping her down and pushing her against the counter, her back pressed against him, tiny kisses dotting her neck and shoulder-blades. The tightness of his erection is pressed against her arse, and it always feels so _good_ , to know how much he wants her. She moves against him, desperate for more even though she’s just come down from something magical.

He lifts the linen dress over her head until she’s in nothing at all, the breeze tickling her bare skin, at odds with the deep heat she feels inside. Out here in their little world, she never wears her underthings unless she absolutely has to, and she’s never more grateful for that than in moments like these.

His hand covers the entirety of her behind. He gently palms her before she hears the zip of his trousers and the slick sounds of him preparing to enter her, every hair on her body raising in anticipation.

When he does, the fullness feels more like a comfortable glove that’s been worn in than anything else. They do this often enough — and she responds readily enough — that even though they are still in the early period of their marriage, he feels like home to her. He _is_ home. When they’re connected like this, she feels complete.

That doesn’t erase any of the pleasure, though — no, in Rey’s opinion, the feeling of her husband pushing in and out of her is the best sort of comfort she could ever hope to find.

He’s murmuring incoherencies in her ear, grunts of _you’re so perfect_ and _mine, you’re all mine, I love you,_ and _we're making a baby right now, our own little family, you'll be so beautiful and we'll be so happy,_ each of which send her closer and closer over the edge.

She’s whining, too, sighs of _Ben, Ben, Ben_ and _I love you too,_ and _you’re all mine,_ and _I can’t wait,_ _please, I want that, —_ loud whines which she’s sure reach the trees through the windowsill above her head, where the basil plant is sitting.

What’s that saying, though? About a tree falling in the wilderness? She’s sure it applies to them, too. Out here, the world is theirs and theirs only. The land is theirs, the air is theirs, and under the midday sun she’s free to be as loud as she wants, with only the trees and birds and wildflowers to answer to.

He brings a hand to her core again, working at the same pace he thrusts into her, and she twists her head so that she can kiss him while he works himself into her. The countertop creaks against them, rusted pots and pans jangling against the wall, until she shudders and cries out, her forehead touching the warm wood. He comes inside of her soon after, keeping her close so that it doesn't spill out into her thighs. They catch their breath just like that, their hands clasped together over her stomach, wedding bands glinting in the sunlight.

She turns afterward to face him fully, pressing kisses to his flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead.

“You’re… something else, sweetheart,” he sighs against her. “So was that jam. Damn lucky strawberries.”

She giggles against him. “It _was_ good, wasn't it? We can have some more for breakfast tomorrow.”

His thumb rubs soothing circles over her cheekbones, a mischievous smile lighting up his face. “Oh?” 

"On _toast._ ”

He pouts. "I'm not sure if it'll taste as good that way."

"We can try scones, instead. That works, too." 

He laughs, helping her put her linen dress on, the pink stains of the jam not quite enough to get her to change for the day. Rey finishes closing up the jars and places them in their tiny fridge before they walk over to the couch where he reads her the story in the paper. 

Forever stretches out ahead of them — the laundry, and the cooking, tending to the garden and to BeeBee and hopefully to little ones in the future — and Rey is eager for each and every moment of it.

It’s a quiet, comfortable life, but if her strawberries were any indication, it’ll be a good one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> If you're back from the first chapter somehow, welcome! I didn't originally anticipate adding onto this, but this universe is so soothing and relaxing that sometimes its nice to dive in and indulge. This also helped me break out of a tiny bout of writer's block, so there's that. Tags have been updated to reflect anything new in this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy! :')

Rey wonders how much their life will change in a few months, when the baby is finally here. 

Funnily enough, BeeBee had taken note of the change before either of them did, curling up against Rey protectively at odd hours of the day and purring against what had then been a flat stomach.

At first they thought it odd, the cat’s new temperamental changes, but then Rey had gone too many weeks without the familiar pangs in her gut, and she knew. It was as though something had changed in her, the moment she truly sensed it — that there was a baby. That her and Ben would add a new member to their tiny family.

The sun seemed to shine brighter on their garden, the flowers blooming more vibrantly in their shades of yellow and red and purple, the water in the lake behind their home sparkling, as though it were made of tiny crystals mirroring the sky.

Ben had kissed the happy tears off of her cheeks that evening when she told him the good news in front of the fire, and they’d held each other while they slowly accepted their new reality with giddiness and fear and excitement catching in their hearts.

Now, as quickly as the leaves on the trees have started to darken and turn orange, Rey’s stomach has started to swell under her sweaters. Summer is long gone now, and it has taken much of the warmth she typically enjoys with it. In return, she collects more firewood, wears socks made of thick, soft wool, and clutches her husband tighter at night.

The morning sickness has eased slightly, but she still fights the urge to stay in bed in the morning, and it takes her a little longer to do most things — which is a tremendous bother for her, but Ben insists he’s happy to take on more of the chores around the house, and so she obeys and tries to relax. If only because he presses soft kisses to her cheek, and neck, and belly when she does so.

“I’ll take care of breakfast today,” he murmurs one Sunday morning, his lips pressed to her forehead while a hand rubs her stomach. There was once a time when his hand would span her entire abdomen with ease, though she can’t quite say the same anymore. Her belly is full and round now, and both of them seem unable to keep their hands off of it, already too excited for the person growing inside to come home. “You stay right here and go back to sleep.”

Rey hums, her eyes closing indulgently and curling into the sheets. “If you say so.”

She’d been tossing and turning all night, unable to find a comfortable spot. Having the bed to herself for a moment _would_ be nice — she’d never realized just how much her body would change as it accommodated a new life, but it was no simple task. The glow in her cheeks came at the cost of constant back pain and fatigue. 

Ben walks away towards the kitchen as Rey slowly falls back asleep, the gloomy autumn morning the perfect accessory to her mood. 

She’s awoken once again by the warm smell of spice and sugar tickling her nose, the soft aroma reaching their bedroom. Already, she feels infinitely better than before.

The sun is still high enough in the sky that she doesn’t feel like she’s wasted her morning, but she can’t help but admit she needed the extra rest today.

When she reaches the kitchen, her heart almost stops.

BeeBee is watching Ben intently, intelligent eyes darting quickly as he moves around the kitchen. The smell of cinnamon greets her, stronger than it had been before, accompanied by a welcome warmth that signals there is something almost ready to be taken out of the oven.

Right now, he seems to be cleaning off some dishes and watching the oven, a white apron tied around his neck and torso. _Her_ apron.

Well, theirs now, apparently.

“Good morning,” Rey announces, her hands tentatively placed near the top of her belly. She’s thrown a thick sweater over her nightgown, thankful for the clothing’s ability to accommodate her growing from. “What’s going on here?”

When Ben turns around, Rey is almost sure that she must be dreaming. There is flour in his dark hair as well as spotted around his nose and ears, his cheeks pink. A shy smile graces his handsome face. “I’m making you breakfast. Like I said.”

When Rey tries to approach the oven, Ben stops her by planting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m already cleaning up. Why don’t you go sit by the fireplace for now? I’ll let you know when they’re ready.”

Rey quirks an eyebrow. “Is there a particular reason you’re being so nice to me today?”

Ben inches closer, his hands cradling her jaw. “Do I _need_ a reason to be nice to my wife? The mother of my child?” He accentuates his words with a gentle hand slung across her hips, bringing her as close as he can despite the large belly between them.

“Absolutely not,” she muses, leaning upwards to catch his lips with hers. “Doesn’t mean I’m not suspicious.”

“I just want to take care of you,” he shifts upward and kisses her forehead. “To make sure you know you’re not alone.”

“Ever the provider, my husband,” she mocks, though it’s a half-hearted attempt to keep the emotion out of her voice. She still can’t believe how lucky they are. How much they love each other. How happy she is, with him.

And the doughy pastries he’s making _do_ smell good, Rey thinks. So good that all she can imagine doing is curling up by the fire and enjoying the morning. She obeys his heeding and turns to rest on their couch, pulling up the soft quilt they'd been given on their wedding day until it’s tucked under her chin.

She doesn’t plan to sleep again, so she picks up her yarn and needle, resuming the project she’d left on the table. The baby is meant to arrive early in the new year, which means there will still be a bit of chill in the air. Rey has decided to make a thick bonnet to protect the child's head.

The yarn was gifted to her by Leia the very morning they’d walked, hand in hand, over to the neighboring cottage to share the news. She’d run upstairs into the attic where she’d been saving it for a moment just like that one. It had apparently belonged to her mother, meant to be passed down into the family. Over their breakfast of muffins, scrambled eggs and fresh orange juice, Rey had warmed with the realization that this _was_ her family, now. She belonged to them, and they to her in return. It felt magical and right in a way that few other things did.

Rey works the needle through the yarn as her mind drifts away, eased by the sound of rain against the window and the fire crackling in their hearth.

She wonders if the baby will have Ben’s dark hair and large ears to complement her freckles and green eyes. Or maybe it’ll be the other way around, a child that is tall and gangly with her freckles and his quiet, gentle disposition.

There are so many combinations of the two of them that their baby might turn out to be, and Rey already loves every single one of them.

She’s torn out of her reverie only when the now familiar smell of cinnamon inches closer, accompanied by Ben’s footsteps.

“I followed the recipe Rose gave us,” he says, chest puffed out under the apron that seems much smaller on him than it typically does on her. He seems inordinately proud of his creation. “She said to use pumpkin in the dough, and I think it really works. Try it.”

Setting the yarn down, Rey sits up and grabs a piece of the cinnamon roll to her mouth. Immediately, it’s as though the dough melts, a swirl of spice and sugar settling on her tongue. She can’t quite help the moan that escapes her, suddenly all too aware of just how hungry she’d been.

“Oh, Ben _,_ ” she sighs, licking the extra sugar off of her lips. “These are wonderful. You’ve done a great job!”

Her eyes dart to his, although by the time she meets his gaze, his is decidedly less wholesome than it was a moment ago.

Rey’s pulse picks up in her chest. Pregnancy has managed to transform her body in a number of ways she hadn’t expected, but it had done nothing to sate the hunger — that of a different, more exciting kind — she felt for her husband.

In the beginning, when they’d been overtaken by the excitement of the happy news and the rush of hormones, it was all too easy to get lost in one another at all hours of the day. More recently, it had become harder, as Rey struggled with moving her body in the ways that had once been so simple and instinctual.

Harder. But not impossible.

She keeps her gaze on him as she bites from the roll again, arranging herself more comfortably on the couch.

Without a word, he leans over her, his lips pressing just under her jaw while she chews. When she swallows, he reaches her neck, his tongue moving achingly slow as he sucks, enough that he might leave a bruise.

“I love seeing you like this,” he whispers, voice dangerously low and close to her ear. One of his hands reaches her stomach again. “Love knowing that I did _this_. That I’ll get to do it again, and again, and again. Is that something you’d like, too?”

Rey sighs into another bite, hiding the whimper that threatens to escape her as she nods, eyes closing.

He lifts the blanket off of Rey, already far too warm to actually need it anymore, fingers playing with the edges of her nightgown.

“I want you,” he says, staring at her flushed cheeks while he adjusts himself on the other end of the couch. “To stay right where you are. Eating the food I made you, just like that. Are you comfortable, sweetheart?”

Rey nods, shifting only slightly so that she is better laid out in front of him. He teases her slowly, hands skimming her legs and thighs until he’s pulled the fabric of her nightgown all the way up.

Already, she can feel the moisture pooling between her legs, the pulse of arousal steady and insistent. It’s more difficult to breathe now, she finds, and she can’t help but moan when Ben begins to kiss a path up towards her center, achingly slow.

“Keep eating,” he chides playfully between kisses, his hands keeping her legs apart while he works her upper thigh. She hadn’t even realized she’d stopped. “I made you breakfast, so that I can have mine. Okay?”

Rey laughs — _giggles,_ really — at his impropriety. Her voice is breathy and drunk on arousal already when she replies. “Whatever you say.”

Just as she takes another bite, his lips finally reach the space between her thighs, his tongue reaching out to tease her just a little more, so close to where she needed him and yet still too far away. She can’t tell if her moan is for the pastry or him this time — but perhaps it is a combination of both. 

Her free hand reaches down to tug at his dark hair, desperate for something to hold onto as he continues to kiss her with a passion and intensity that makes her head spin.

“Ben…” she sighs, desperate as a familiar pressure begins to build in her spine. “Ben, _please_.”

She feels him smile — that alone does wonders to help her along, the curve of his full lips against her — introducing two fingers, soft and slow, as he continues to work her up. There is almost nothing left of the roll now.

“You taste so sweet,” he says, his words punctuated only by Rey's impatient moans and the low, erotic sound of skin where he is working her towards delirium. “You always do.”

Rey becomes too overwhelmed to reply by the mixture of sensations, her breaths coming in short pants as Ben feasts on her as though he were a man starved. The tenderness with which he devotes his attention is dizzying, her body flushed and warm and so, _so_ alive under him.

Her hips buck up against him and her hands grip his hair even tighter as the pressure in her spine builds until it releases, a sharp cry escaping her as her vision goes white. The feeling Ben provides her with is so euphoric she can barely see, her mind somewhere far, far away as she slowly comes back to reality.

When she _does_ return to her body, Ben is still over her, eyes glazed over. She tugs at the fabric of the apron and urges him down so that she can kiss him, deep and slow.

She moves to cradle his cheek, his brow furrowing when she attempts to. Gently, he pulls her hand away and takes her fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them, releasing her fingers after a few seconds.

“Leftover sugar,” he said, by way of explanation. “I’m pretty good at this, huh? Might have to switch trades.”

“You do make an excellent baker,” Rey smiles, sated and indulgent and absurdly happy. “Might need a new apron, though.”

“I like this one,” he pouts, adorably so. “Can’t we just share?”

“I suppose,” Rey hums. “Though I might just let you keep it. Looks better on you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he kisses the tip of her nose, scrunched with her giddy smile. "Are you feeling better now? After the breakfast I made?" 

"I think it was more than just the breakfast," she laughs. "But yes. Thank you."

Rey reclines deeper into the couch and snuggles into Ben, her mind wandering. It occurs to her, not for the first time, the magnitude of what they are. How he anticipates his needs before hers. How they work, every day, to build a life they can be proud of. She can only imagine what an incredible father he will be. What a family they will make, together.

“I love you,” she whispers, not quite looking at him. 

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he brushes a hand over her hair, swatting the flyaways out of her face. “I always will.”

“Our child is going to be so lucky to have you,” she sighs, growing teary. Damn hormones.

He smiles, his eyes warm again. Rey’s heart grows about three sizes when lifts her nightgown again to reveal her stomach, pressing a kiss to the swell of it. “They’re going to be lucky to have both of us. We're going to love them so much, aren’t we?”

Rey nods. “I’m so excited to meet them. I can’t wait.”

“Me either,” he murmurs against her stomach. “Although I wasn’t lying when I said I want more. If… I mean, if that’s what you want?”

She gave herself a moment to envision it — a wide yard, kissed by the sun. A large tree, with a swing attached to it. Flowers, everywhere. Roses and daisies and tulips.

And children. Lots of them, running and laughing and playing and caring for each other. The two of them, at the head of it all.

A family. A _big_ one.

“I’d love that,” she admits, more convinced of it by the second. “Although, if you’re going to fill me with that many babies… I expect many more pastries in the future. Among other things,” she adds suggestively. “I’m the one who has to experience it, after all.”

“Sounds like a fair trade to me,” he smiles. “I can’t wait.”

Rey couldn’t know for certain what the future held in store for the two of them. There was no way to really predict things like that. But the dream of it filled her with so much hope and love that it became something she was eager to hold onto.

For now, though, she would enjoy the brisk chill of an autumn day, the warmth of her husband next to her, and the company of her tiny, growing family.

That would always be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/hidingsolo)


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